


Let Me In

by a_nonny_moose



Category: Markiplier Egos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 16:57:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11695950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_nonny_moose/pseuds/a_nonny_moose
Summary: Introducing Anti.





	Let Me In

The room was silent. Jack took the moment to breathe. In the back of his mind, the echo of an insane giggle. 

He gritted his teeth. "What do ya _want_?!"

 _Let me out,_ a voice, much like his, nagged. _Let me out, and I can show ya **everything.**_

Jack made sure the apartment was empty before giving in. "Fine. Show yerself."

 _A computer,_ the voice prodded. 

He scrambled to boot up an old laptop, listening to the soft dings as each application started. A beat, and then--

 _Anti-virus?_ the voice chuckled, and Jack felt a shiver go down his spine. _Pathetic._

The screen went black for a second, then came back, washed in green. The ding of a Skype call, from--

"Antisepticeye?" Jack snorted against the building pain in his head. 

_Just answer._ The words came with a jab behind his eyes. 

Jack took a deep breath and hit the green button. 

_Finally_. 

Every light in the apartment flickered. The recording setup, so carefully tucked away, suddenly flared to life. Every speaker blared, the camera flipped itself on, and the screens were awash with static. 

Too late, Jack realized that the wifi was working on this old laptop. 

"Stop!" He reached for the plug, about to cut off the power. 

"No!" A scream, glitching through the laptop speakers. All at once, the recording room went quiet. 

Jack's heart beat heavily in his chest, his throat, his ears. The room went dark, lamp flickering twice before going out. The laptop screen in front of him the only source of light. 

A face on the screen, in the Skype window. His own face, but smiling, a glint in his-- its-- eyes. 

"Nice to meet ya, Jackaboy." It spoke with his voice, but _wrong_ \-- as if a broken record, echoing octaves higher and lower all at once. 

"Who the _fuck_ \--" his voice was shaking, and he balled his hands into fists, and he swallowed his fear, and he looked the imposter in the eyes. "--are ya?"

"Call me whatever," the thing on the screen said, static overpowering the speakers. "But I'm here to show ya what I _want_."

Jack took a moment to realize how stupid this was. Here he was, a grown man, crouched on the floor of his room in front of a beat-up old laptop, talking to what seemed to be himself. 

"I want," it continued, screen now glitching dangerously, " _you_."

"Yer not getting _anythin'_ ," Jack growled, brain working as fast as it could. Whether this was a joke or really an evil entity, he wasn't about to go along with its demands. "Just get out."

The thing laughed, the static corrupting the image on the laptop screen. "Ya can't get rid of me, Ja--"

He pulled the plug, shorting out the laptop. The lights flickered back on, everything back to normal. 

Jack ran a heavy hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. The voice in the back of his mind, the ache in his head, were gone. Whatever that thing was-- Anti, he decided-- was gone, at least for now. 

With that, he picked up the laptop to throw it out. Burn it, more like, he thought to himself, stomping out of the room. 

The camera's recording light was still on when he closed the door.

* * *

"Robin, you're doing a great job of editing Anti!" he typed the message, reading it over before sending it. The past few videos had all been Robin's idea, making the joke of Anti into reality. The community was buzzing, and he'd never been happier. 

Robin, on the other hand...

"yeah," came the reply, followed by another quick message. "gotta go."

 

Had Jack not known better, he would've thought that something was amiss.

* * *

Jack was recording a silly pumpkin-carving video when he heard it again, the first time in weeks. A giggle. 

"I swear I'm hearin' things," he muttered, getting up to investigate. 

He felt it happen the moment he stepped off camera. Suddenly, he was a backseat passenger in his own body, watching the world unfold and his limbs move without his consent. 

Jack screamed, but not a sound escaped him, and no one heard. 

The giggle sounded again, but this time from the driver's seat of his mind. 

_Anti,_ he thought, feeling his heart sink. 

_In tha flesh,_ the reply came. Jack felt his body wiggle its eyebrows. 

_How?_ Jack almost whined, struggling to keep his head. 

_You've already lost yer head,_ the voice said, chuckling, reading his thoughts. _**They** gave me life. **They** helped me do this._

His body was pointing at the camera now, and Jack fought back panic. The viewers couldn't have this much power. 

...could they?

Anti finished the episode for him, and Jack screamed as Anti slit their throat. 

There was so much pain, and so much blood-- and Jack realized, curled, sobbing, in a corner of his own mind, that he was going to die. 

He was forced to watch the blood drip down his chest, the camera now turned off. Anti giggled from the drivers seat. 

_Had enough, Jackaboy?_

Jack retreated deeper into himself. _I... yes. Please._ He was begging, pleading to be let go. 

_Weak._ Anti snarled, laughing. It echoed around his mind like coins in a tin can, and Jack forced himself to think. 

_If I die, so do you,_ he bargained. 

_That's where yer wrong._ Flashes, visions of Anti's own experiences. It hurt Jack to look at, pictures corrupted by glitches, static and binary. Images of Robin forced to edit, and, like an echo of his own screams, Robin begging Anti to get out. 

_I'll live on with a host,_ Anti bragged, stretching Jack's face into a smile. _But you? Yer done for._

 _Please._ He was begging for his life. _I'll do anything._

_Anything?_


End file.
